


Stronger

by Scummy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I hope 'gen' is the right tag because theres no shipping in this, Spoilers for Ray Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scummy/pseuds/Scummy
Summary: Saeran wanted nothing to do with his past, but it didn't mean Saeyoung was willing to stay ignorant about what had happened while they were separated. Had Rika lied to Saeran about where Saeyoung had gone? Did V try to correct her, or go alone with it for Saeran's safety? Who taught him coding? What happened to him at that damned place that caused Saeran to barely sleep during the week, clutching cups of hot chocolate in the kitchen during the early hours of the day with exhausted and reddened eyes?-------------A story for @Saeranuu on tumblr!





	Stronger

          Watching his brother nervously step around the room was causing Saeyoung’s stomach to twist into impossible knots. They shouldn't be here- _Saeran_ shouldn't be here. Months of therapy didn't mean he was safe enough to revisit Mint Eye, even with all of the cultists long gone, but at the same time Saeyoung couldn't just tell him no. Refusing to let him come back would mean Saeyoung didn't trust him- That all the therapy he was going through wasn't making him good enough.

          He couldn't install those beliefs back into his brother. Saeran needed the support, and Saeyoung needed to keep his mouth shut as he watched him roll the fabric of a gaudy suit sleeve between his fingers, lost in some memory that Saeyoung hoped was better than what he was imagining.

          “Are we picking up a lot?”

          The way Saeran flinches after Saeyoung speaks confirms his worry of bad memories, but to his brother’s credit, he just clears his throat.

          “No. Mainly hard drives, old files, a few books. I don't need anything else.”

          Saeyoung nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets and scanning the room. Was this the only place Saeran stayed in? The computer room was far bigger than this dingy place. The mattress was just on the floor with a thin cover, the inside of the closet barely consisting of anything- Honestly, the bookshelf was the only piece of furniture here that proved this wasn’t a prison cell.

          Saeran throws a shirt into the box they’ve brought in before pausing, eyes darting to the bookshelf.

          “Can you get the clear out the closet for me?”

          “Sure,” Saeyoung doesn’t miss the way Saeran relaxes a little, focused on a particular shelf. “Do you want to keep all of it, or?”

          “Just the white shirts. And the black slacks. Everything else I don’t need.”

          Would he even feel comfortable with all of this in his house, though? Saeyoung doesn’t push it, knowing that Saeran’s probably on edge enough already, and begins tossing the few clothes that matched Saeran’s description into the box.

 

* * *

          

          Just two boxes. Everything that had a hint of Saeran living here was just compiled into the boxes each of them held, and while this place undoubtedly haunted Saeran, Saeyoung wished his brother had more than barely the bottom of a box to call his own after clearing out that room. He’s busy formulating fun places to take Saeran to shop when his brother lags behind, staring down the long hallway he they had kept ignoring.

          Saeyoung waits, but Saeran’s lost in thought again, tapping his fingers on the bottom of his box. It takes a moment before Saeran sighs, avoiding looking at him.

          “Her room is at the end of the hall.”

          Taking a deep breath, Saeyoung steps up beside his brother, following his gaze to an ornately decorated door. Gold filled its accents as a sea of purple covered its surface, with large drapes hung above its frame. Even from a distance the handle shined with a polished glow. Did Rika make all her believer’s live like Saeran while she flourished, or was he just the unlucky one?

          He couldn’t be sure, especially with how tight his brother’s grip had became on the cardboard.

          “I can search that room alone, Saeran. You don’t have to go.”

          Saeran doesn’t speak until he sighs, turning away from the hall to meet his brother’s eyes briefly.

          “If you find anything about me, just...just get rid of it. A-and don’t tell me what you found. If I focus on it I’ll just-”

          “Hey, I got it. I won’t say a word.”

          A smile flits across Saeran’s lips for just a moment, thankful for being understood, but it fades just as quickly as he resumes their earlier path. Saeyoung tries to joke around once they hit the fresh air outside, away from the gloom, but his plastered on cheerfulness falls short as Saeran sits in the back, silent.

 

* * *

         

          The box sits there as if taunting him.

          It had been a few days since they had came back from Mint Eye. Due to the recent storms, they couldn't go ahead and burn everything like Saeran had hoped, so it was stuffed by the entrance of the bunker for the next chance they had. The burn box consisted of flashy clothes, primarily, but peeking out from underneath the blazer on top was the spine of a worn down journal.

          Saeran wanted nothing to do with his past, but it didn't mean Saeyoung was willing to stay ignorant about what had happened while they were separated. Had Rika lied to Saeran about where Saeyoung had gone? Did V try to correct her, or go alone with it for Saeran's safety? Who taught him coding? What happened to him at that damned place that caused Saeran to barely sleep during the week, clutching cups of hot chocolate in the kitchen during the early hours of the day with exhausted and reddened eyes?

          Saeyoung wouldn't know for years, if he was at all lucky, and so that book taunted him, teased the secrets he could learn about his brother. As wrong as it was, he had spent a majority of his life doing scummy acts. Some habits die hard, and if anything in that box had information with how he could help Saeran, he was willing to risk a small strain between them, even if it hurt.

          Saeyoung stands up from the couch, stretching as he thinks. Saeran usually went to bed around nine on good days, desperately trying to catch up to all the sleep he had missed, so if Saeyoung could wait just a couple of hours he could sneak whatever notebook he had been eyeing into his room.

          Or…

          Or he could do it now. Saeran had been sorting through whatever was on those flash drives in his room, and since he had been in there for hours, Saeyoung might have a chance to go ahead and nab them. His own room wasn't too far from the entrance…

          Thinking quickly, he slips down the hallway, keeping as quiet as he can. It was just the two of them tonight, Vanderwood and the RFA’s sweetheart both busy with their own schedules, so the only noises he needed to look out for were Saeran's. He reaches his brother's room, taking a deep breath and gently leaning against the door, listening intently.

          Saeran was quiet by nature. Their environments had never been kind to either of them, but unfortunately the clacking of keyboard keys could barely be silenced. From what it sounded like, Saeran was still absorbed in his self-given work, and didn't show signs of slowing down yet.

          The window of opportunity was wide open, and so Saeyoung took his chance. Hurrying back down the hallway, he finds the burn box quickly, giving one last glance towards Saeran’s room before lifting the purple blazer up and reaching for the journal he had seen earlier. As he grabs it, he pauses when lifting it up, seeing two more below it. It’s too risky to sit there and consider his brother’s writing habits, so he grabs them all, setting the blazer back in place before dashing inside of his room.

          Safe. He lets out a heavy breath and looks down at the notebooks in his hand, freezing when one strikes a cord. Quickly, he heads over to his desk, dropping the other as he sits with the ragged one, tracing the edges. Saeyoung knew this one, he remembered scrounging around the cathedral as a child and finding a twin set of notebooks, begging to take them home to share with Saeran.

          First impulse is to question why it’s in the burn box, but...It wasn’t long after Saeyoung had gifted him this notebook that they had separated. Saeyoung doesn’t even want to open it at first, but his hands more as if on autopilot, cracking it open and carefully touching the pages. The first entries he remembers, in fact he remembers Saeran writing the second one- trying to pretend as if he wasn’t looking over Saeyoung’s shoulder at the time, but unable to be discreet enough. It was cute at the time, but now he couldn’t brush away the uneasiness.

          It isn’t long until he comes across the entries of Saeran alone at home the first time- The drawings of their angry mother, the pleas for Saeyoung to come back. He’s holding out strong until he lands on a page covered in stains. Looking at the text on the paper, tears start to form in his eyes as he has to accept what those dark splotches are. He’s seen stains exactly like this on missions- On folders of intel he’d extracted from target’s offices. Their mother blamed Saeran for him leaving...And Saeyoung wasn’t coming back. He didn’t come back for years.

          How much did Saeran endure?

          Tearing his eyes away from the page is nearly impossible, but he manages to make himself once a heavy tear splats onto the page. It knocks him out of his trance, making him suck in a deep breath and move his shaking hands onward.

          Thankfully, the rest of the pages start to become clearer, less dirty, and soon actual photographs are tacked onto the pages with now flimsy tape. Plants of different kinds, blurry buds, cookies- then a picture of Saeran, smiling with a pot of flowers. The same flower on the bookmark Saeran had reluctantly given him.

          Surely...Saeran wouldn’t look into these, would he? Not before throwing them into the fire they had planned. Saeyoung carefully peels back the yellowed tape on the photo of Saeran, trying his best to salvage it. While he had that floppy with pictures of his brother, it never contained this one, and he needed it. He needed some proof that his brother was happy in their younger days, even if it was for brief moments.

          He manages to retrieve it with minimal printing lifting off of the old photo. After another long scan of it, he places it into the first drawer of his desk. Secure. At least Saeran’s brighter moments of his past could be stored safely- locked in a photo untainted by traumas.

          With that, he opens the journal back up, trying to finish this one to move onto the journal that was better maintained.

 

* * *

 

          In the midst of his reading, the worst comes into play. He should have accounted for Saeran getting tired, or hungry, or whatever reason that led into Saeran opening his bedroom door while he was still deep into reading. There’s only a short moment between them before Saeran realizes what he’s doing, freezing in place as Saeyoung feels the start of panic hit him.

          No. No, no, no! He’s too late with his attempt of shoving the journals under his desk, already seeing the fear in Saeran’s eyes.

          “What are you….I-I left those in the box- I trusted you!” Saeran’s voice comes out weak, then gradually becomes louder as he strides closer to Saeyoung. “How much did you read?!”

          “I- Uh, I read, just-” There’s no way to salvage the situation. Saeyoung has tears pooling in his eyes from reading what his brother had to endure, from knowing just how much he was manipulated-

          Saeran pushes his chair away, making Saeyoung stumble as he keeps himself from going too far, trying to reach out and stop Saeran from grabbing the journals.

          “Saeran, please-” But he’s got both of them, shaking as he blinks back his own tears. “I needed-”

          “Needed what? To betray me one last time?! I didn’t want you to read these- These pathetic thoughts of mine!” Saeran throws the journals down on the floor, screaming while Saeyoung can only watch in shock.

          “This part of me is dead! He’s dead and I’m- I’m stronger now! I’m better!” He kicks at the splayed open pages, a frustrated whine leaving him. He’s so focused on the journals that his back is turned to Saeyoung, trying to destroy remnants of his past.

          “I’m in control now! I can think for myself- I- I can do what I want! I don’t have to listen to anyone- I don’t have to be a puppet! I’m free- I’m stronger! I’m better! No one can- can hurt me anymore- No one!” One stomp makes Saeran stumble, falling onto his backside.

          The surprise from falling fades quickly, and with the journals still in his reach he grabs one, starting to wildly rip at the pages. He’s stopped talking now, but Saeyoung is still in a muted shock. It takes Saeran yelling and throwing the tattered notebook to snap him out of his thoughts, almost falling as he slides out of the chair, crawling over to Saeran.

          It’s a small struggle at first, but he’s able to quickly pull his brother into his lap. Saeran resists momentarily, thrashing as he cries out, but once he realizes his demons aren’t the one holding onto him, he finally collapses, resting fully against Saeyoung with a sob.

          “I’m stronger th-than that now, Saeyoung. I’m nnnot weak anymore. I’m not weak.”

          His voice is so small. So quiet as it cracks, as his hands grasp at Saeyoung’s shirt with a tight grip.

          “I-I know, I know. You’re stronger now. You’re strong.” Saeyoung mutters. They haven’t been in this position since they were kids, and he feels just as lost now as he did back then. Saeran is hiccuping against him, shaking, and all he can bring himself to do is numbly rub his back with clumsy strokes. What had he done?

          When did he become so selfish?

          “I…” It takes him a few tries to find his voice, still trying to compute everything that he had read- had caused. “I’m sorry, Saeran. I’m so sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I'm not looking for any critiques since this is a story for someone else, and I had them pre-approve a majority of this story, thank you!  
> This is for @Saeranuu on tumblr! If you haven't seen their artwork, I would strongly recommend checking them out! Their comics are sweet, funny, and really brighten my day!  
> If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories or my tumblr at MmScum.tumblr.com! Thank you so much for reading!


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